Tey do Keizaal
by AK151
Summary: An unfolding story of a young Nord thrust into the world of Skyrim as its savior.
1. Chapter 1: Origins and Beginnings

This is the first piece of writing I've submitted here, so go easy on me if you so desire. If not, hit me with your best shot. I love any kind of criticism, as long as it's constructive. Also, tell me where you want this to go. I've got a bit of a plan, but there's so much content in Skyrim it's hard to choose exactly what to focus on. And with all that out of the way, I can't say much more than enjoy!

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My eyes opened slowly so as to keep from being blinded by the light that was sure to assail them the moment they were not under the protection of their lids. But the light was dim, dim enough to feel comfortable. It was overcast, so maybe that meant some rain? After sight came sound, the sound of hooves hitting the ground, mingled with the creak of turning wooden wheels and the occasional bump as they struck a stray rock or the like. I was in a cart. A horse-drawn cart.

"Hey, you," a voice to my right sounded, jarring me from the daze common to those just waking up. My head throbbed as a head throbs when it has been hit with enough force to knock its owner unconscious. With the jarring voice came a slightly clearer picture of the world. The cart was in a forest, probably traveling some forsaken or rarely used road. What was of interest was the driver. He wore a brown vest with dark red sleeves and collar. If I wasn't mistaken, it was the armor of the Imperial legion. If I was correct, we were sitting in an Imperial legion cart. I tried to move my hands apart but they were bound, which in itself unnerved me. We were prisoners. I realized then that I had yet to see who "we" was, and my eyes turned to inform me.

Across from me sat a Nord with long, untrimmed blonde hair like myself. Unlike myself, he was cloaked in armor. Its coloring was blue and brown, and under the leather was a slightly visible coat of chain-link mail. The coat was unfamiliar to me, but looking to my left, I saw more men and women in the same armor. My gaze returned to the man in front of me, who was staring at me. I realized it was his voice that had jarred me so.

"You're finally awake," he continued. "You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."

I tried to jog my memory, but the blow to my head did more than knock me unconscious. I was still dazed from the hit.

"Damn you Stormcloaks!" another voice growled, coming from next to the man who had just spoken, at the edge of my vision. My head turned slightly to get a glimpse of him. He was wearing nothing but rags, and his eyes were gaunt. His brown hair was disheveled and looked uncared for. "Skyrim was fine, until you came along! Empire was nice and lazy!" So it was the Empire. And Stormcloaks? I jogged my memory a second time, hoping to come to a realization. Then it hit me.

The Stormcloaks were rebels. Their leader, Ulfric Stormcloak, had murdered Torygg, high king of Skyrim. All of them were fully devoted to the downfall of the Empire. And I was sharing a prisoner cart with one.

"If they hadn't been looking for you," the thief, according to the Stormcloak across from me, interrupted my thoughts. "I could have stolen that horse and been half-way to Hammerfell." A horse thief, paired with soldiers that could be considered terrorists? Imperial justice was vindictive, if anything. But if I was in the lot too... "You there!" The two words jolted me as I realized I was being addressed. My eyes met his. "You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants!"

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief," the Stormcloak responded, his voice growing haughty.

"Shut up back there!" our ever-so-polite driver called over his shoulder. A brief silence was interrupted by the thief.

"What's wrong with him, huh?" His eyes gestured towards the man sitting next to me. His clothing was fine, maybe even regal, which also explained the well-trimmed, if slightly dirty hair. He emanated authority, even bound, and gagged, as he was.

"Watch your tongue!" the Nord across from me hissed. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true high king!" His voice morphed until it sounded as though he was making a proclamation. His devotion was obvious, and even admirable.

"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm?" The thief replied, his tone that of surprise. So he was a Jarl. My mind wandered back to the olden days, when feuds between the Jarls were all too common. "You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you..." My mind made the sinister connection all too quickly. "Oh gods, where are they taking us?"

"I don't know where we're going," the Nord responded. "but Sovngarde awaits."

On the outside, my face remained unfazed, almost distant. It was, of course, an act. On the inside, questions raged, chief of them being "why me?", followed closely by "what have I done?". I tried to remember if I had offended the Empire in such a way that deserves death, but my mind failed me, still recovering as it was from the blow that I realized I had no recollection of.

"No, this can't be happening! This isn't happening!" The horse thief was in a panic, unsurprising, given the circumstances. If I hadn't been too busy worrying about myself, formulating a story, an argument that I figured would be foolproof and undeniable proof of my innocence, I would have felt pity for him. Thievery of a horse and when caught he expected a prison sentence, not the headsman's ax.

"Hey," the Stormcloak said in a more gentle, perhaps resigned tone. "what village are you from, horse thief?"

"Why do you care?" he replied angrily, obviously blaming the Stormcloaks for his imminent fate.

"A Nord's last thoughts, should be of home," came the almost detached response.

At the Stormcloak's words, images of my own old house came to me. A small cabin, out in the wilderness, close to Ivarstead. My father and I would occasionally walk through the valleys and the mountain passes. He would teach me to hunt and survive on my own. I learned to use a bow, yes, but my father also taught me how to catch prey without the use of weapons, instead relying on the environment. Those thoughts brought comfort to me, even with my roiling thoughts, and I realized the wisdom in the Stormcloak's words.

"Rorikstead... I'm... from Rorikstead," said the horse thief, but I barely heard him, immersed as I was in my own thoughts.

"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!" this new, unfamiliar voice, belonging to an Imperial, did bring me out of my own little dreamworld, and when I looked for the source, I saw the town. It was gated, with an opening large enough for a carriage to pass through with no trouble, protected by two now opened wooden doors. The voice came from a sentry above the gate, walking back and forth above the stone walls.

"Good," said the man at the head of the procession of carriages, whom I assumed was General Tullius. From what I had heard he was the head of the Imperials in Skyrim, the organizer of all of their activities in the continent. His presence came as a surprise initially, but thinking about it and noticing the defeated Ulfric Stormcloak, I realized that this entire execution was planned to be for him. "Let's get this over with."

"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh!" prayed the horse thief as the carriage crossed under the great arch that greeted us. "Divines, please help me!"

I looked around, taking in the scenery. Ahead of us, and most apparent, was a pair of watchtowers, very rare in such small hamlets. They hinted at a past in which perhaps the small town we were in was once more important. To the right of the cart I saw several small houses and another gate, but that was not my focus. To the side of the procession, the General had broken off and was now conversing. I saw a group of Altmer, high elves, their yellowish skin easily distinguishable. They were Thalmor.

"Look at him," the Stormcloak scoffed. "General Tullius, the military governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him! Damn elves! I bet they had something to do with this!" Damn elves indeed. I had no prejudice against the majority of them, however, one of the reasons my views clashed with the Stormcloaks' often. But the Thalmor I held in contempt for many reasons.

"This is Helgen," the Nord continued in a less agitated voice. "I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in?" His calmness would have been unnerving if it were unnatural, but calm is always natural when one is about to meet the gods. "It's funny," he murmured, almost dreamily. "when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me fell so safe..."

"Who are they, daddy?" a child's voice asked. My eyes turned, catching a glimpse of the boy, his red shirt and neat hair, his innocent eyes that had never seen death or blood. "Where are they going?"

"You need to go inside, little cub," the father of the boy responded.

"Why? I want to watch the soldiers."

"Inside the house. Now." The father's voice turned from soft to stern. No child should watch men going to their deaths.

"Yes, papa," the boy complied, clearly disappointed. It was sad to witness his innocence and think back to when I thought the same way.

I looked ahead and my heart began to pound more rapidly as I noticed the carts in the front were coming to a halt. I noticed an armored Imperial woman shouting out orders. "Get the prisoners out of the cart! Move it!"

"Why are we stopping?" the horse thief asked, once again panicking.

"Why do you think?" the Nord replied softly. "End of the line." The cart came to a halt, our friendly driver standing up and hopping down from the cart. "Let's go," the Stormcloak continued, this time addressing me. "Shouldn't keep the Gods waiting for us."

As we stood up to leave the cart, the thief began his futile protests. "No, wait! We're not rebels!"

"Face your death with some courage thief!" the Nord scolded, jumping out of the cart after Ulfric, shoving the small horse thief out. I followed, stretching my legs one last time and rolling my shoulders before stepping off the cart, casually landing on the hard ground and bending my knees to absorb the shock. It felt good to move again.

"You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!" His voice was growing more and more agitated, more and more desperate. I held my peace, not wanting to cause trouble.

"Step towards the block when we call your name, one at a time!" the Imperial captain yelled harshly. I took an immediate dislike to her. Beside her was a younger officer. His armor was fine, a silver breastplate, shoulder-pads, and bracers, with crimson sleeves and gold trimmings that wove across the chest, forming the Imperial emblem. In his hands were a quill and paper.

"Empire loves their damned lists," the Stormcloak growled.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm," the officer in the fine armor called in a contrastingly calm, almost soothing voice. The gagged Jarl walked forward as his name was called.

"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric," the Stormcloak, now to my left, muttered.

"Ralof of Riverwood," was the next name, and the Nord left my side, walking off to join his companions in front of the block. At least I would know his name. I felt names were important to know.

"Lokir of Rorikstead." The name of the town made me look to the thief, who walked forward.

His voice was at the height of its panic, almost shrill in its protest. "No! I'm not a rebel! _You can't do this!_" I knew what he was going to do and silently hoped he wouldn't try it.

"Halt!" the female Imperial shouted in her harsh voice as Lokir sprinted as fast as he could past her and the other guards towards the gate.

"You're not gonna kill me!" he called over his shoulder, but I could already see the guards with their bows.

"Archers!" the captain called, and several shafts sprang forward from dark-brown longbows, burying into the back of the runaway prisoner. He was dead before he hit the ground.

I watched the entirety of the grim scene, cursing the stupidity of the thief while also admiring his courage. He was going to die anyways, might as well _try_ and escape. This dangerous thought took root and made me begin to think of a plan of my own.

"Anyone else feel like running?" the Imperial captain snarled. I had half a mind to sprint forward and smash her face in with whatever limb of my body could reach it.

"Wait," the officer next to her said. "You there," he called, addressing me. My gaze shifted and I looked him in the eye. "Step forward."

I took a few steps until I was in front of the two legionnaires. This was my chance to talk my way out of my fate. I had gone through hundreds of mock conversations, and I was fairly confident that the Imperials would be lenient. To be safe I directed my gaze towards the Imperial in the fine armor, who seemed at least a bit more sympathetic than the one to my left.

When I was in front of the two of them, the officer who had addressed me looked me over, trying to find anything distinguishing about me, perhaps to place what crime I had committed to deserve execution. "Who are you?"

* * *

A familiar scene, no? I'm following the introduction pretty accurately, you'll see quite a bit of action next chapter. Once Helgen's out of the way, the sky's the limit. So much to write about, but only one story. For now. So I stress that if you're enjoying the story so far, not only would it be great to comment on any criticisms, or maybe even talk about things you liked to stroke my ego, but if you want you can put in some requests for quests that I should cover. I'm for sure going to focus on the main quest, at least at first. But who knows?

And, just a warning, I am VERY flighty with time management and my will to write comes and goes, so if the story goes without an update for a while, I more than likely have NOT given up on the story, I just haven't been focusing on it.


	2. Chapter 2: A Surprising Reprieve

I present Chapter 2. More information on our Nord hero and a bit of action. Again, if you want to leave your criticisms or praise (preferably the former), feel free to do so. Enjoy!

WARNING: This chapter, along with the majority of the story, will have brief instances of cursing or brief violence. None of it will be excessive, and cursing will be about as bad as it is in the actual game, so you won't have to worry about the F-bomb being dropped here. But you will find the occasional spot of mild language. You have been warned (and in hindsight, I probably should have put this in the first chapter).

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"My name is Kor," I began, the story rehearsed many times in my head. "I'm not a Stormcloak, or a thief, or anything that could perhaps justify beheading me." They remained silent, so I continued, my tale rolling off my tongue.

"I crossed the border to Skyrim by night. Suspicious, yes, but hardly grounds for an execution. I thought it odd that there was no one to stop me, but I paid it no heed and continued. Half an hour later I found myself with a sword to my back, caught by an Imperial patrol, and due to their hostility I assume they were the patrol that was capturing the Stormcloaks, and they must have assumed I was one. I was knocked out and put on the cart. I woke up right before we got off the cart."

A pause signaled to the Imperials that I was finished. The male officer glanced towards who I assumed was his captain before returning his gaze to me. "You picked a bad time to return to Skyrim, kinsman." On that, I had no argument. "Captain?" he was addressing the female officer now. "What should we do? He's not on the list." Relief flooded into me. With no grounds on which to execute me, they could do little but let me go.

My jubilation was such that it was a full second before I acknowledged the captain's reply. "Forget the list," she ordered. "He goes to the block." Shock overcame me. I was neither rebel nor criminal. They had no reason to kill me, yet they were going to anyways.

"But I'm innocent!" I yelled. "I've done nothing!" I was not oblivious to the pair of guards to my side that would restrain me if need be.

The male officer seemed surprised by the verdict as well. "But-," a look from the captain and he went silent, his voice becoming begrudging. "By your orders, captain." His eyes met mine. "I'm sorry," he said with sincerity. "At least you'll die here, in your home land." The female walked off towards the assembled group of prisoners awaiting execution. "Follow the captain, prisoner," the male said in a lifeless voice.

I turned towards the crowd and walked forward, trailing behind the captain, cursing her under my breath. She had no right to sentence an innocent to death. No one did. I curled my lips in a silent snarl, but I kept my peace otherwise. I stopped next to Ralof, the Stormcloak who was in the cart with me. In front of us was a stone block with a crate in front of it. The headsman next to it, towering with his massive ax, confirmed its dark purpose. My heart quickened at the sight of it, but I tried to keep calm. The Imperial general, Tullius, was speaking, addressing the gagged prisoner in front of him.

"Ulfric Stormcloak," the general's voice was that of contempt, "some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the voice to murder his king and usurp his throne." The voice? If the general was referring to the legendary thu'um, the ability to tear enemies apart with a word, then it would explain the gag. My respect for Stormcloak began to grow.

In response, Ulfric tried to speak, but it came out as nothing but gurgles and unintelligible mumbles. I was curious to see what would happen if the gag were removed, but I shook my head of those thoughts and remained focused.

"You started this war!" the general continued. "Plunged Skyrim into chaos! And now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace!"

At his final word, as if on cue, a sound followed. Everyone looked for its source, but it seemed to come from the distance. It was a noise unlike any I had ever heard before, akin to a very harsh wind, yet almost more like a call, almost as if it were a sound made from some sort of creature. As the noise faded, one of the Imperials, the sympathetic one, from his voice, asked the obvious question. "What was that?"

"It's nothing," the general replied. He was too concerned with the beheading of his prize. "Carry on." At his word, the Imperials lost interest in the strange sound.

"Yes, general Tullius!" the bitch captain saluted, turning to the priestess who I had not noticed before. "Give them their last rites."

The woman in her yellow robes raised her arms to the heavens, reciting lines she had probably versed a hundred times over. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the eight Divines upon you, for you are the-"

"For the love of Talos," one of the Stormcloaks interrupted, walking forward quickly, "shut up, and let's get this over with!" I couldn't help but admire his bravery, spitting in the face of death. I know I would have been praying alongside the priestess.

"As you wish," the robed woman hissed, dropping her arms and backing up.

"Come on!" the Stormcloak shouted. "I haven't got all morning!" The Imperial captain shoved him to his knees and planted her foot on his back, forcing his head into the small curve in the stone, right above the crate. As he went down, he continued his tirade. "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials! Can you say the same?"

The prisoner in position, the headsman raised his ax. In other circumstances I would have looked away, but observation at this point was paramount to my survival. The huge blade rose slowly, almost dramatically, as if the executioner were intentionally drawing out the spectacle. My eyes squinted so as to focus more clearly on the weapon as it reached its zenith. It fell quickly, reaching the neck of the Stormcloak in a second. As it connected, red spurted everywhere from the now severed head and the stump it was previously attached to. My stomach rolled at the sight, and I felt lucky that I hadn't eaten anything prior to my capture.

"As fearless in death, as he was in life," Ralof muttered in a cold tone, and I could not argue with the statement. Instead, I turned inward to my own thoughts.

Despite my revulsion, I had what I needed. A few more falls of the ax, as cruel and heartless as the thought was, and I would be able to perfect the plan that had been manifesting in my head since observing the decapitation. I nodded to myself, steeling my stomach for the next execution.

"Next, the Nord in the rags!" the Imperial captain called out in her harsh and cruel voice. I looked around for who she was referring to, but it only took a split second for me to realize who was going to die next.

Upon my realization, again the same sound heard earlier made itself known. I looked to the sky for the source of the howl, but there was nothing. "There it is again, did you hear that?" the sympathetic Imperial asked, again trying to draw more attention to the strange sound.

"I said, next prisoner!" the captain growled, as if she had not heard the noise. Any thoughts of the strange howl died out quickly at the thought of my head joining that of the Stormcloak.

"To the block, prisoner," the sympathetic Imperial muttered in a slightly calming voice. "Nice and easy." The statement was almost ironic, and I couldn't help but wonder if he meant it to be interpreted as so.

I walked forward, calm on the outside but a turmoil on the inside. Quickly I reviewed in my head the prior execution. The ax took a second to reach the head, which meant if I acted at the ax's zenith, I would have but a second. I was stopped and turned around. I felt a hand shoving me to my knees, and a foot on my back pushing me down until my head was on the block.

In an instant the scene I had been so carefully planning unfolded before me. The headsman would raise his ax, slowly, steadily. At its zenith and fall, I would roll to the side, off the stone and into the gravel. Surprised at my action, the Imperials would be able to do nothing but watch as I spring to my feet, smashing my bound arms into the throat of the executioner, stunning him. By the time the Imperials muter themselves, my bindings would be around the throat of the headsman, choking him to me, himself being used as a human shield. From there, I could bargain my way out of captivity and to freedom.

I returned to reality in the same instant, focused entirely on the action that most, including myself, would deem suicidal. But the circumstances dictated that unless I was willing to welcome death, I had no other choice but to try and survive. My focus was entire, my preparation little but enough. I knew what I had to do.

As my head met the stone, every bit of preparation for the moment was flooded away by pure terror. A great black figure launched into the sky from behind the mountains close to Helgen. Two obsidian wings spread from the body, both large enough to cover a house. Its jaw opened and a great roar came out, scaring some of the lesser men and women into their homes.

"What in oblivion is that?" the Imperial general shouted at the monster's call.

"Dragon!" someone cried as the beast came towards Helgen, landing on the great watchtower right behind the headsman.

The executioner turned just in time to see the creature let off another sound, something similar to a clash of lightning. The sky turned orange and red and fire rained down from the heavens, a ball striking my would-be killer. Another clash of lightning came from the creature's maw and a shock-wave came towards me. The shock of the dragon's appearance still had me rooted to the spot and the wave struck, sending me flying back into the ground. Stunned, I lay there, perhaps waiting for a falling fireball to do what the ax had failed to accomplish.

"Hey, kinsman!" I heard a voice call. It was Ralof. Jarred and brought back to reality, I shook my head to clear my thoughts and looked to the Nord. "Come on!" he ordered, gesturing to the tower and open door twenty feet away. "The Gods won't give us another chance!" Nodding, I got to my feet and sprinted to the entrance with Ralof, who shut the door behind me. I looked around, noticing a group of Stormcloaks around me. Two were wounded and were laid on the floor. To the side was Ulfric, gag and bindings gone. "Jarl Ulfric!" Ralof called. "What is that thing? Could the legends be true?" I passed them and looked out the tiny slit that served as a window, watching for a few seconds the carnage wrought by the dragon and what I now realized was its shouting. Homes were on fire, corpses were strewn about, and death was everywhere.

"Legends don't burn down villages," the Stormcloak leader replied. A blast resonated through the tower and bits of rubble came down. "We need to move! Now!"

"Up through the tower," Ralof told me. "Let's go!" He ran up the winding stairs and I followed. We made it to the second floor where one of the Stormcloaks was clearing some rubble.

"Give me a minute!" the soldier said as we came upon him. "I just need to move-"

He was interrupted by a massive black mass which plowed through the wall and crushed him. The debris knocked me off my feet. The dragon's head was mere feet from mine, its gaping maw open in a furious snarl, revealing razor sharp teeth, each as large as a sword. "Yol..." the dragon inhaled, and I thought I could make out words. My instinct told me to leap back, so I did, averting my eyes as I heard two more words. "Toor shul!" Fire raced forward from the monster's open mouth, covering the entire room in an inferno. The heat close to the flame was stifling enough. I had trouble imagining what it felt like inside the wreathing pyre.

Its breath expended, the dragon withdrew from the tower and flew off. Ralof ran forward when the fires died down, looking out the hole in the wall created by the attacker. Having recovered from my shock, I joined him, watching as the dragon dive-bombed Imperial soldiers. I saw a good number of fireballs from Imperial magicians launch into the air and could not help but chuckle darkly at the irony. "See the inn on the other side?" Ralof pointed at a slightly charred building close to us. "Jump through the roof and keep going!"

"What about you?" I called back as he ran back down the stairs to join Ulfric and the other wounded soldiers.

"Go!" he ordered. "We'll follow when we can!"

"Damn it all," I cursed to myself. The flames had died down in the tower but a few still danced in the area I was to land in. I took a second to say a quick prayer then sprinted through the opening. For a few seconds I was completely out in the open, flying through the air. Then I crashed through the roof of the inn, landing on hard wood floor. I was sweating from the heat but I felt no fire on me so I kept going.

I looked around for a second, taking in my surroundings. There were a few bookshelves and some pots and pans. A bed with fur lining was in front of me. Ahead was a hole in the floor with a support beam running across. I rushed towards it and jumped through, landing on the ground. The door to the inn was gone, as was the majority of the walling. Charred logs and collapsed pieces of wood were all around me. I heard voices coming from outside the inn and followed them. I came across an Imperial soldier, the sympathetic officer from earlier, and a few other civilians. The soldier, sword drawn was trying to coax a child I saw earlier away from the open ground he was standing in.

"Haming!" he called with authority. "You need to get over here, now!" The child hurried to the Imperial, and I saw behind him a man on the ground, still alive but off his feet. "That aboy, you're doing great," the Imperial encouraged. As soon as the child was within reaching distance he grabbed him and leaped back. The dragon landed behind the wounded man, inhaling once again. "Torolf!" the Imperial cried before turning his back to the flames that blew out of the dragon's mouth, engulfing the man on the ground. "Gods! Everyone get back!" He and the child ran from the dragon to the cover of some rubble close to the inn.

"Still alive, prisoner?" he called, addressing me. At least it was the sympathetic Imperial and not the captain who had sentenced me to death on a whim. "Stick close to me if you want to stay that way." He pulled the stunned child to an old man who was at his side. "Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join the defense."

"Gods guide you, Hadvar," the old man said before turning his attention to the boy. The child ran over and cowered next to some rubble, and the old man walked over to him, standing guard. Hadvar. At least he had a name.

Hadvar turned towards me, acknowledging my presence before running off towards a small pass between a wall and a tower, past the charred corpse of Torolf. I foolishly followed, despite the fact that I could do nothing with my hands bound and Hadvar made no attempt to cut the bindings loose. "Stay close to the wall!" he ordered, pressing his back to the stone. I followed suit, and not a second too soon, because as soon as my back came into contact with the wall I heard several resounding cracks as the dragon landed on the tower above, crushing several small rocks. One of his massive black wings was inches from us, but we stayed still, hoping it wouldn't notice us. The dragon spewed another jet of fire, roasting an Imperial soldier close to us, before flying off once more.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I kept following Hadvar, passing the dead Imperial. We went through an almost completely demolished house and were met with a crowd of Imperial soldiers, being directed by general Tullius. Some were magicians with fire at their command, and the rest were trying to hit the beast with their arrows. Neither group produced a tangible effect on the dragon. "It won't die!" one of the Imperials cried. "It just keeps coming!"

Tullius was standing over the bodies of one of the villagers, dead from burns. "Hadvar!" he called, seeing the soldier. "Into the keep, soldier! We're leaving!" He directed the remaining Imperials, some of whom retreated, covered by the rest, who tried to keep the dragon at bay.

"It's you and me, prisoner!" Hadvar yelled. "Stay close!" I barely heard him, enthralled as I was in the unfolding battle between the Imperials and the dragon. The archers and their arrows were doing nothing, the shafts simply bouncing off of the tough scales of the great leviathan. The mage-fire merely charred the scales of the dragon when it hit, but that in itself was rare enough, for the dragon's movement was constant and swift.

"Run, you idiot!" Tullius voice brought me out of my reverie. I realized I was standing in the middle of the battlefield. Cursing my foolishness I sprinted to Hadvar and we made out way to the keep, the dragon flying overhead. To our left came Ralof, a steel war-ax in his hand.

"Ralof, you damned traitor! Out of my way!" Hadvar growled, coming to a halt. The Stormcloak and his men were blocking the way.

"We're escaping, Hadvar," the Nord responded. "You're not stopping us this time." Overhead, the dragon dove down, grabbing an Imperial archer and taking him into the sky, dropping him from a hundred feet to his death.

"Fine!" the Imperial soldier shouted. "I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!"

Ralof and his men ran to another entrance to the keep. "You!" Ralof yelled to me. "Come on! Into the keep!"

"With me, prisoner! Let's go!" Hadvar urged, moving in a different direction to another entrance.

A moment of indecision seized me. I could go with my executioners, but that wasn't a fair judgment for Hadvar. He had tried to save my life, even if he had failed. Then again, the Stormcloaks were my allies from the beginning, and Ralof acted as a friend despite not even knowing my name. But the views of the Stormcloaks were not my views.

The ground shook behind me and a deep and terrible voice growled, "Dovahkiin," I turned around, fear gripping me, and came face to face with the dragon. Its bronze eyes were fixed on me. "Zu'u lost daal."

It lifted its head, its jaws opening, and inhaled. "Yol," but I was already running towards Hadvar, faster than I had ever run in my life. The Imperial kicked open the door and jumped inside, me right behind him, as the dragon exhaled. "Toor shul!" The flame covered my back for a second before I leaped through the entryway and the door slammed shut behind me.

* * *

Yes, I took the side of the Imperials. I personally prefer them to the Stormcloaks, but Kor's a bit indecisive, so I had the dragon choose for him. Good day, happy holidays (unless you're reading this after them) and stay tuned for more (hopefully, if I don't get completely distracted like what almost happened with this chapter).


	3. Chapter 3: Escaping Helgen

Sorry this next part is so late, I've been busy procrastinating. Just a warning, this chapter's long, but it has some action. I'm not entirely satisfied with the descriptions in some areas but I could find no other way to describe them, so meh. With that in mind, here is part 3 of the adventures of our Nord hero. Enjoy!

* * *

I ripped off the rags I was wearing, throwing them to the ground. The dragon's fire still clung to them, and in seconds they were nothing but ashes. My back was in better shape, protected as it was by the makeshift clothing. I stretched and made sure I had no injuries before examining our surroundings.

Hadvar and I were in what seemed to be a barracks. Three beds were to our left, with trunks in front of each of them. To our right was a table and a few shelves. Farther down were a few weapon stands and another chest.

"Looks like we're the only ones who made it," Hadvar muttered. Perhaps that was for the best, considering the hospitality of the other Imperials I had met. "Was that really a dragon, the bringer of the end times?" This question annoyed me. What else could it have been? I withheld my urge to retort and approached the Imperial, jumping slightly as the dragon roared outside and the room we were in rumbled slightly. Hadvar looked around nervously as well. "We should keep moving," he said when the noise had stopped. "Come here, let me see if I can get those bindings off.

I walked forward as Hadvar produced a small dagger about the size of my hand. I held my arms out and after a few seconds of sawing my arms were free, the cloth holding them together falling noiselessly to the ground. "There you go," Hadvar said as the knife finished its work. "Look around. There should be plenty of gear to choose from." He turned his back and approached a chest. I went towards the weapon racks at the far end of the room, opening up a trunk next to a few swords hung up on some wooden stands.

Inside was a suit of light Imperial armor, some boots, and some bracers. I held up the tunic, examining it. Chain-links adorned the shoulders of the cuirass, but aside from that the only protection was offered by thick light-brown leather. The collar of the suit was maroon, as were the short sleeves that peeked out from under the protection of the thick leather.

With no other available or practical forms of protection, I slid the vest over my head, immediately feeling warmer as my exposed back was covered. The armor was a bit too big, but it would do for the moment. After the chest piece came the boots and bracers, which were a similar shade of brown as the main armor. I kicked off the footwraps I was wearing and slid the boots over my bare feet. Like the cuirass, they were a size too big, but it wasn't impairing and I quickly got used to their feel. The bracers fit better, and covered my arms while still keeping my fingers free.

After the armor was on me, I turned towards the weapon racks. There were two, but they each had an iron sword and nothing else. I drew one of the blades from its resting place and swung it around a few times, getting the feel of the weapon. It wasn't as balanced as I would have hoped, but it would have to do. Inside the trunk was another iron sword, and under that was a key. I picked up the latter and stored it in one of the pockets in my armor. Also inside the chest was a belt and cloth, which I assumed acted as a sheath for the sword. I picked it up and tied it around my waist before placing the sword through the loop created by the cloth. It fit comfortably but had a tendency to swing, so I kept a hand on the hilt of the blade to steady it.

I turned to Hadvar, who tossed me a leather helmet. I caught it nimbly before examining it. A standard light Imperial helm, the same dull shade of brown as the rest of my armor. I slid it over my head, thankful that it did little to impair my vision. "Let's keep moving," the Imperial said, walking over to the gate that separated us from a hallway. "That thing is still out there." He pulled on a chain and the gate lifted, allowing us passage through. We hurried through the corridor, slowing as we heard voices.

"We need to get moving!" a man could be heard saying. "That dragon is tearing up the whole keep!" We came to a halt at another gate which led to a circular room. I hugged the right wall, trying to keep out of sight of the source of the voices. Judging from Hadvar's alertness, I didn't expect them to be friendly.

"Give me a minute!" a female voice replied. "I'm out of breath." Hadvar peeked around the corner, looking through the gate.

"Stormcloaks," he whispered. "Maybe we can reason with them." He pulled the chain that opened the gate, and it lifted, letting us walk through into the next room. Two Stormcloaks were standing, one hunched over. The other noticed our arrival and pulled a massive two-handed ax from his back where it was resting. The other looked up and drew a sword similar to mine.

"Imperial dogs!" the male shouted charging and raising his ax. The other Stormcloak did similar, holding out a round shield as she advanced on Hadvar. The other came towards me.

"Hold on!" Hadvar tried to stop the two. "We only want-" he was cut off as the female Stormcloak's blade almost cut his head off. He drew his own sword, trading blows with the Stormcloak. She used her shield to very good effect, the object acting as a barrier between her and her enemy. She used it to control the fight and move Hadvar to where she wanted him to be, backing him into a corner. At that point, my attention shifted to the Stormcloak with the ax, who had chosen me as his target.

I drew my sword, noticing how puny it was compared to the huge weapon it was up against, and held it up in a defensive stance. My opponent swung his weapon horizontally, and I stepped back to avoid the blow. The ax blade connected with my sword and knocked it to the side, almost ripping it from my hand. Thankfully, the weapon was too large for its own good, and its momentum carried it too far. I recovered before he did and stabbed forward, a thrust aimed at the Stormcloak's throat. He wisely let go of his weapon, moving to the side and avoiding the blow. He reached for his hip and pulled out a short sword, swinging it towards my waist. I recoiled, bringing my sword into a defensive position. Metal clashed with metal as the swords collided. I stepped forward, trying to catch his blade on my sword's crossguard, but he angled his own weapon so that the two swords were parallel. I stepped to the side to avoid the slice that followed and tried to swing at his neck, but he avoided the blow and retaliated with his own attack, which I parried forcefully. He brought his sword back and over his head for a strong attack and I raised my weapon to block, but the force of the blow knocked my blade to the side, and I stepped back, staggered by the attack. The Stormcloak advanced, trying to take off my head with a horizontal slice. I backpedaled but my back slammed into the wall of the room. The Stormcloak stepped forward again, drawing his sword back for a stab, the point aimed at my chest.

In the blink of an eye the Stormcloak dropped his weapon as blood erupted from his chest, followed by the slim blade of a sword, Hadvar's sword. For a moment, the Stormcloak stood in shock before going limp and falling to the ground as Hadvar withdrew his weapon from the corpse. After wiping off his bloodied sword, he pulled me to my feet and walked over to a barred gate. Again the dragon flew over the keep, its roar reverberating even inside. "Come on," he called to me. "This way."

I nodded and walked over, tripping on the corpse of the other Stormcloak, her throat sliced open. The body wasn't my interest however. Beside it was a shield, brown and covered with the hide of some animal. I picked it up and weighed it in my hand. It was heavy, but not heavy enough to be debilitating. I slid my left arm through the cloth loop in the back of the shield, moving it around and getting used to the weight. When I was done, I walked over to Hadvar, who tried to open the metal door. "It's locked," he muttered, straining to open it.

"Try this," I said, producing the key that I had found earlier. He turned and took it from my hand, sliding it into the keyhole and turning it. The door opened with a creak and we walked through, finding ourselves at the top of a stairwell. We went down cautiously, and I kept my right hand on the hilt of my sword. At the bottom of the staircase the hall turned right, and we followed it, coming across a long corridor.

We inched through the hall, and I noted a door to our left. Suddenly, we heard the dragon roar again and the entire keep shook. The roof rumbled and came down in front of us, blocking our passage. I jumped back in shock but recovered quickly. The door to our left remained unblocked. "Damn," Hadvar cursed. "That dragon doesn't give up easy." I nodded and walked to the door, opening it slowly. Immediately we heard more voices.

"What are you doing?" a Nord's voice asked to someone else. "We need to get out of Helgen! Now!" I gripped my sword and pulled it silently from its leather sheath, nodding to Hadvar. I was more prepared for battle this time.

"The Imperials have potions in here," another voice responded. "We're going to need them." I walked slowly into the room and gauged our next foes. One had an enormous greatsword, the other an equally sized warhammer. Hadvar charged forward, his steel sword swinging at the head of one of the Stormcloaks. Taken by surprise, he was felled immediately. The other drew his weapon, but I ran forward, apparently unnoticed, and thrust my sword into the heart of the soldier. I heard a sickening crack as the sword ripped through bones, followed by another sound as it tore through muscle and impaled the heart. I withdrew my weapon and blood oozed from the gaping wound in the man, even as he fell back, dead.

I cleaned my reddened blade, as did Hadvar, and we looked around. "An old storeroom," Hadvar said. He gestured towards some barrels. "See if you can find some potions. Might come in handy." He opened the exit door and looked out, ensuring we were alone. I turned towards one of the barrels and lifted the cover. The light prevented me from seeing into the container so I reached into it, my hand trying to grasp anything inside. I felt a few objects, but they crumbled at my touch and probably were of little use. I withdrew my hand and moved on to the next barrel, repeating the same process and again having little luck. Finally, at the third barrel, my hand felt several glass bottles. I grasped them out at a time, extracting them and depositing them on the floor. When the barrel was empty I assessed my new inventory.

There were nine potions, three red, three green, and three blue. I knew from basic alchemy knowledge that potions were usually organized by color; red signified a potion restoring or fortifying health, healing or numbing wounds and making one more resistant to pain. Green colored bottles indicated a potion that produced the same effects for stamina, making one feel more energized. And lastly, the blue potions, used exclusively by magic users, replenished magicka, allowing for spells to be used for a greater period of time.

The magicka potions were useless to me but from experience I knew they fetched a high price in the markets, so I held on to them. The stamina and health potions, on the other hand, were very useful and would no doubt come in handy later on.

With the potions in my pocket, I walked over to Hadvar, who was waiting by the door. "Done then?" he asked, and I nodded in reply. "This way." He opened the door and we continued down the hallway, coming to another stairway. I could hear more fighting downstairs, so I drew my sword. "The torture rooms," Hadvar explained as we descended and a few cages came into sight. "Gods, I wish we didn't need these."

We made it to the end of the staircase and watched the unfolding fight. Two Imperials were fighting three Stormcloaks, but the Imperials had the advantage, for as the Stormcloaks charged, one of the Imperial soldiers, an elder man with a hood obscuring the majority of his face, raised his hands and from them poured a stream of blue lightning that engulfed the attacking men. They screamed in pain as the magic attack struck, and the distraction was enough for the other Imperial soldier, a bulky man with a large mace, to smash in the heads of the survivors of the barrage.

The battle over, the magician walked up to us, his hands still cackling with lightning. "You fellows happened along just in time," he said in a sinister, almost sadistic voice. "These fellows seemed a bit upset at how we've been entertaining their comrades." I looked to the cages, noticing piles of bones in two of them and a fresh corpse in another. I shuddered at the thought of being trapped in one of those cages.

"Don't you know what's going on?" Hadvar snapped, silencing the mage. "A dragon is attacking Helgen!" The keep shook again as the dragon continued its attack. The torturer and his assistant, the Imperial with the mace, seemed unperturbed by the disturbance.

"A dragon?" the elder Imperial scoffed, as if oblivious to the plight of the keep he was in. "Please, don't make up nonsense." His attitude quickly caused my anger to rise, but I doubt he noticed. "Although, come to think of it, I _did _hear some odd noises coming from over there." He made no gesture, leaving us in a state of confusion as to what he was referring to.

"Come with us," Hadvar said, ignoring the Imperial's vague comment. "We need to get out of here." I looked around, spotting a narrow hallway. One corner of the room was caged off from the rest, with a weapon rack and two wooden desk occupying the front and side of the walled area. Inside stood the bulky assistant to the torturer.

"You have no authority over me, boy!" the magician snapped. I wandered closer to the caged area, peeking inside. There were a few books on the desk, but the weapon rack was my focus. An iron mace was hung up on the wooden construct, but beside that was an iron shield. I walked forward, heedless of the Imperial beside me, who didn't seem to notice my presence, and tried to heft the iron slab, abandoning my lighter piece of protection. It took both hands for me to bring the shield off the ground, and I could only hold it up for a few seconds before its weight caused my arms to sag. I let go of it and it fell to the ground with a _thud_. I picked up my hide-covered shield once more, quickly abandoning the prospect of hoisting the heavy shield with one arm.

"Didn't you hear me?" Hadvar growled, clearly angered by the interrogator's lack of cooperation. "I said the keep is under attack!" I walked out of the caged area and went to the staircase, wary of more Stormcloaks that might be coming.

"Forget the old man," the bulky man said. "I'll go with you." He walked out of his corner and nodded at Hadvar. The elderly Imperial walked off.

"Wait a second," Hadvar turned around, walking to one of the prison cells. "Looks like there's something in this cage." Inside was a corpse wearing what looked like magician robes and a hood. A book with a sigil, a hand-shaped symbol with fingers drawn as if flickering, like fire, signifying a subject pertaining to the Destruction school of magic, along with several golden septims, lay next to him.

"Oh, don't bother with that," the old man sneered. "Lost the key ages ago. Poor fellow screamed for weeks." I shuddered at the torturer's sadism, but I tried to not let it deter me. In the center of the room was a pillar with a table in front of it. On the table was a knapsack and a book, with an iron dagger buried in the wood. I paid the dagger and the book no heed and instead rifled through the bag, finding a few septims and several long strands of brittle metal: lockpicks. I placed everything back in the knapsack and took it off the table, slinging it onto my back after transferring my recently discovered stash of potions into the bag. It was good to have something to store things in.

Hadvar produced some lockpicks of his own from one of his pockets, tossing them to me. "See if you can get it open with some picks." He gestured towards the cage, and I walked forward. "We'll need everything we can get." I had picked a few locks in my time, so I decided to try my hand. In addition to the picks Hadvar threw me a tension wrench, which I thanked him for silently, as it was something else I needed that I initially neglected to search for.

I knelt down and inserted the pick into the open hole that was the padlock keyhole, placing the tension wrench below it. I slid the pick around, applying pressure gently to the tension wrench to see if I could turn the lock. After several attempts to align the tumblers correctly, the lock started to turn a bit. I moved the pick ever so slightly and applied even more pressure to the wrench and was rewarded with a click as the lock opened.

With the lock taken care of, I edged into the cage, looking down at the dead man. I rifled through the pockets of his robe, finding a bit more than two dozen septims and a pair of magicka potions, the latter fitting considering the corpse's apparel. "Grab what you can and let's go!" Hadvar called.

I placed my knapsack down and put the potions in the main pocket, again taking them for their monetary value. The coins I put in a side pocket. Next to the deceased magician was another meager pile of septims, which I collected and deposited in the side pocket of the knapsack, and a book, a spell tome, by the looks of it, for the learning of a magical ability for the school of destruction. I placed it in my pack, deciding to skim through it when we were less pressed for time.

I turned to Hadvar, but he was gone, having taken the bulky Imperial with him down the hallway. I followed them, ignoring the sneering comments of the torturer. "There's no way out that way, you know."

Down the hallway were some more cells, some of them with locked doors, some of them without. I looked through the bars of the locked doors to see if there was anything useful, taking some time to pick the lock of one of the doors after spotting the orange leather of a coin pouch, which I hastily picked up and stored in my pack.

After rejoining the pair of Imperials, we continued on, passing a few claustrophobic cages with corpses still inside, their feet hanging down from the suspended bars. Hadvar stopped at a hole punched through the stone wall, looking through it cautiously. "This way!" he motioned after confirming its safety. We continued down the passageway for a minute or so until it turned to the left, stopping once more at voices.

"Where in Oblivion are we supposed to go?" a male voice, presumably a Stormcloak, asked. I drew my sword quietly, as did Hadvar. The beefy Imperial readied his brutal looking mace.

"Just give me a minute! Let me think!" another, more exasperated voice, replied. Hadvar nodded to the two of us before rounding the corner, myself and the other Imperial following closely.

We were in a large, almost natural cavern, with stonework running down the sides and small bridges crossing over two streams. There was a small staircase that led to the ground, which was solid and undisturbed natural rock, with two small streams of water flowing across, originating from a pair of minuscule waterfalls on different sides of the room.

One of the Stormcloaks was standing on the small bridge closest to us, and he engaged Hadvar. Two more rushed up the staircase from the ground level, assaulting me and the other Imperial. My comrade moved faster than his size would suggest, easily dodging a swing from one of the advancing Stormcloak's blade. Before his opponent could react, the Imperial caught him in the chest with the mace, doubling him over. He raised up the weapon and brought it down on the Nord's skull, crushing it. The body fell, limp.

The other Stormcloak came at me with a sword raised and poised for a stab. I raised my shield and took the blow, the sword impacting and shoving my arm back. Instead of stepping with the shield as it moved back, I twisted until my body was perpendicular to my attacker. The momentum remained in my shield as it flew back, and the enemy sword followed it, but my own sword stabbed forward as I turned, cutting through the leather cuirass the Stormcloak used for armor and piercing his heart.

I withdrew my sword and faced my companion, nodding in approval at his skill. Before he could react, however, a steel bolt flew past my head and buried itself in the throat of the Imperial, killing him instantly. Recovering from the shock quickly, I looked across to the other side of the large room, seeing a pair of Stormcloaks armed not with bows but mechanical crossbows. Instinctively, I raised my shield and staggered back as another bolt struck, embedding itself in the hide covering. I glanced at Hadvar, who was finishing off his Stormcloak, and called out to him. "Crossbows! Across the room!" He looked and nodded in confirmation and went off to the side.

Raising my shield once more, I charged down the staircase, sprinting blindly across the stream and up the opposing staircase to the crossbowmen. Another bolt pierced the shield but my momentum overcame the strength of the shaft's impact and I kept going until I was close enough to bash one of the crossbows aside, stabbing its wielder in the throat. Realizing the other was beside me, I pulled my sword out and shoved the limp corpse between me and the other Stormcloak, being rewarded with a thud as the fired bolt instead embedded itself in the leather cuirass of my fallen foe.

I pushed the body aside and charged the Stormcloak, who had abandoned his ranged weapon and had drawn a one-handed ax from his hip. He swung at a diagonal, but I caught the blow with my shield, counterattacking with a horizontal swing with my own weapon, which the Stormcloak ducked under. He tried to swing the ax across my chest, but I slammed my shield down on top of it, knocking it to the ground, following with a stab to the center of his chest. The blow struck, the tip of the sword burying into the collarbone of the Stormcloak. I quickly withdrew the blade and brought it across, slicing his throat and finishing him.

After catching my breath, I searched for Hadvar, eventually finding him behind me, having engaged another Stormcloak that had been waiting at the room's exit. Relaxcing, I searched the bodies of the Stormcloaks, finding little. The corpse of the slain Imperial had a dozen or so septims which I took and pocketed, figuring he would have little need for the money in his state. In addition, I extracted the steel bolt from his throat, grimly pleased that it was intact, as well as digging the projectiles from my shield, which also seemed to maintain their integrity.

Gripping the bolts in my hand, I approached the slain crossbowmen, picking up one of the small bolt-quivers and belting it to my armor, taking the bolts from the other quiver and depositing them in my own. With the projectiles obtained, I turned to their launcher, picking up one of the heavy crossbows. It was a fairly simple device, with one piece of hardened, finely carved wood placed perpendicular to a metal bar, making a "T" shape. Across the metal bar was a wire that held the bolt and a hinge device that when pulled back brought the wire to a piece of metal a bit more than half-way down the piece of wood that made the handle. When I pulled the trigger, the metal piece lowered, presumably to allow the wire to spring forward, launching the bolt loaded onto it.

Nodding in approval at the design of my new weapon, I placed it on my back, the "T" shape allowing it to hang between the two straps of my knapsack. Hadvar had already continued on to an upright wooden bridge, a metal lever beside it. "Let's see where this goes," he said, pulling the lever back. The wooden bridge came down, opening up to a natural cavern.

We crossed and I looked up, pausing as I noticed the opening in the roof of the cave allowing light through. I heard the dragon roar once more and a shadow passed over the opening, followed by rumbling and crashing noises coming from above us. Realizing the rocks above the bridge were caving in, I charged forward, as did Hadvar, springing from the bridge and barely making it across before several boulders came crashing down, obliterating the wooden structure while also barricading the entrance.

"Damn it," Hadvar cursed. "No going back that way. I guess we're lucky that didn't come down on top of us." He turned around and walked down the crude staircase, the only sign of previous exploration in the cave. "We'd better keep moving. I'm sure anyone still inside the keep will find another way out." Confident that the torturer was the only one still inside, I silently hoped that that was not the case.

We moved on through the cave, following a stream that ran down the cave and into a passageway. We came to a halt at a large slab of rock that blocked out way. Hadvar growled in exasperation. "That doesn't go anywhere," he muttered, turning to the right and noticing a side corridor. "I guess we'd better try this way." He went down the passage and I followed until it turned again and Hadvar motioned for me to stop, pointing first at me and then at the area ahead.

From what I could see it was a fairly large natural chamber, but that wasn't what held our attention. A pair of large spiders, Skyrim's own frostbite spiders, were crawling around the center. I realized Hadvar was trying to point to my crossbow and I pulled it from my back, quietly taking a bolt from the quiver at my hip. I placed the bolt on the wire, pulling it back and wincing as it clicked into place. I aimed down the simple iron sights of the weapon, targeting the closest of the spiders. I cast a side-long glance towards Hadvar, noticing a long-bow in his hands, an arrow on the string.

"Right is mine," he whispered, and I nodded, switching my aim so that I was now ready to hit the left spider. "Three," Hadvar began to count down. "Two." My finger curled around the trigger of the crossbow, and my breath caught as I tried to steady the weapon. "One."

He let loose his arrow, and the shaft buried itself in one of the eyes of the spider. It was followed by a loud _snap_ as I pulled the crossbow's trigger and let loose the bolt, which tore through the head of the other spider. Before we could relax, however, two more, larger spiders descended from the roof of the cave. Without a word I pulled another bolt, loaded it, and launched it, killing one of the beasts. Hadvar loosed an arrow at the other, but the shaft did little to stop it. It made its way quickly to us, spitting a large ball of poison that narrowly missed. Hadvar launched another shaft, which slowed the creature, and finally, another bolt from my crossbow finished it off.

With a sigh of relief we moved to examine the creatures, retrieving our projectiles from their corpses. "What's next, giant snakes?" Hadvar scoffed as he yanked one of his iron-tipped arrows out of the larger spider, tossing my expended bolt to me after. I chuckled as I wrenched the final bolt out of the small spider I had killed, cleaning my used shafts and placing them in the quiver. "Come on," Hadvar called, already waiting at the exit to the chamber. I examined the spiders for a moment, realizing the potency of their venom. However, I decided that now was not the time to try and extract it, so I moved on.

We found ourselves in another large, spacious area. The stream we had followed initially still flowed, and a natural stone bridge allowed us to cross the gap created by the stream. A few lanterns were strewn about the area, and a wooden cart lay in the open. I examined its contents, finding nothing but several bottles of wine and a coin pouch, the latter of which I took.

"Hold up," Hadvar grabbed my shoulder, crouching. "There's a bear, just up ahead. See her?" I looked to where he was pointing, seeing the brown mass still asleep in the center of the cave. "I'd rather not tangle with her right now. We might be able to sneak by. Just take it nice and slow, and watch where you step." I nodded, crouching down with him and stepping forward cautiously, eying the ground to make sure there was nothing to step on that would generate noise. We inched our way across the cavern, careful to not make any noise. We ventured close enough to hear the animal's heavy breathing, but dared not go closer. I saw light ahead and quickened my pace.

A _crack_ resounded through the cavern as my foot struck a rock. We both froze as we heard a threatening growl and padded footsteps. We continued on, our speed almost frantic as we tried to distance ourselves from the bear. I saw it staring at us and almost took out my crossbow, but the animal made no move to pursue us, instead content with snarling.

Once we were out of its sight, we relaxed and Hadvar stood up. "That was close," he muttered before moving on. Before long the light made itself more apparent and I could see an opening up ahead. "This must be the way out!" Hadvar exclaimed. "I was afraid we'd never make it." A few more steps and we stepped out of the cave, into the blinding light of the sun.

* * *

And there we are. Those of you who have played the game will know pretty much immediately that there are no crossbows at the start of the game. I play the PC version of Skyrim and tend to load a lot of modifications into it to improve the experience. One of these introduces crossbows into Skyrim, making it so that they will be randomly equipped by bandits or guards or soldiers. When I played through the game with this mod, the Stormcloak archers in that segment had crossbows, and that became integral to that character, so I'm doing something similar here.

On that subject, I'm tempted to add in other mods, but I'm not sure how you guys would react to that. Some feedback would be greatly appreciated, negative or positive. I'm always looking for ways to improve my writing. That being said, good day. and thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4: Riverwood

And we're back! After a very long wait (school, Skyrim, procrastination, etc.), I hopefully am going to start writing these parts more often. Hopefully. Anyways, this is a fairly short chapter, so enjoy it for what it is.

* * *

We were greeted by light and a worn dirt path. Some snow covered the tops of the rocky outcroppings beside us, but the ground was relatively clear. I looked up at the overcast sky, wondering if it would begin to rain. My thoughts were interrupted by heavy flapping.

"Look out!" Hadvar cried, kneeling down beside the tall rocks. I joined him, unwilling to have gone through so much to be roasted so close to the end. A shadow passed over us and we heard the dragon's roar. I peeked out to get one last glimpse at it as it soared over the mountain in the distance. I once again heard the familiar howl in the distance, the dragon's call. "Looks like it's gone for good this time," Hadvar breathed a sigh of relief, "but I don't think we should stick around to see if it comes back."  
"Agreed," I muttered, looking around warily. The dragon might have left, but I still felt nervous out in the open. "What now?" I asked, turning to him.

"Closest town from here is Riverwood," Hadvar replied, pointing north. "My uncle's the blacksmith there, I'm sure he'd help you out." I nodded, my thoughts instantly going towards obtaining a better set of armor. "We should stick together," Hadvar continued. "Never know what might be out there." I was inclined to agree with him and we set off.

After a few minutes the path merged with a slightly worn road, which provided some comfort to me. The road was always safer than the wilderness. We continued on until we reached a corner, where Hadvar stopped, pointing towards the mountain.

"See that ruin up there?" I squinted to try and make out what his finger was distinguishing. It was a large stone structure, with several large arches. "Bleak Falls Barrow," Hadvar whispered, almost with a hint of reverence. "When I was a boy, that place always used to give me nightmares. Draugr coming down the mountain to climb through my window at night, that kind of thing." He continued walking, still talking over his shoulder. "I admit, I still don't much like the look of it." The place did give off an ominous aura, and I shuddered reflexively before following Hadvar.

We rounded a corner and I saw three pillars arranged uniformly in a semi-circle. I glanced at Hadvar, who kept moving towards the rocks. I followed until the Imperial stopped. "These are the Guardian Stones," Hadvar explained. "Three of the thirteen ancient Standing Stones that dot Skyrim's landscape." He gently pushed me forward towards the trio of relics. "Go ahead, see for yourself."

I hesitantly inched forward, examining each stone. I quickly realized that each pertained to a certain skill set. The one on my left was for warriors. The one in the center catered to magicians, and finally, the stone on the right was for those who's actions could be considered that of a thief. I was unsure what the stones would do, and was unsure what to do with them. As if in answer, one of the stones, the Warrior Stone, lit up, launching a blue beam into the sky. I stepped back in shock at the stone's activity, unsure what was happening.

"Warrior," Hadvar murmured, smiling. "Good. I knew you shouldn't have been on that cart to begin with." I turned, casting him a quizzical look. He chuckled and kept walking down the road. I hurried to catch up with him, demanding an explanation. "The Stones are mysterious," Hadvar told me. "No one knows how they work, but the locals always say that you don't choose the stone. It chooses you, based on who you are. If you were a thief, the Thief Stone would have lit up, the same if you were a mage."

"I'm not much of a warrior," I confessed. "I know how to use a sword and shield but I'm hardly what you could call skilled."

"Then either the Stones are wrong, or you are," Hadvar countered. "And I doubt they are." I rolled my eyes, tiring of the discussion of the Standing Stones. Apparently the Warrior Stone reacted to me, but that was the extent. Unless it helped me in some way, there was little reason to give thought to it.

We continued in silence for five more minutes before we heard howling. Hadvar stopped, pulling his longbow from his back. I drew my sword, unwilling to expend the few crossbow bolts I had on a pack of wolves. I looked up a hill to our right for the source of the howling.

A trio of black wolves came bounding down from behind some rocks, their teeth bared. One leaped forward towards me, and I readied my blade, but an arrow from Hadvar struck the predator in the side, killing it. Another wolf tried the same tactic with Hadvar. Distracted as he was by the wolf that attacked me, the animal tackled him, almost biting his throat. I charged forward and sliced it in its side, kicking it off my companion. Hadvar got up and pointed behind me, and I realized I had completely forgotten about the other wolf. I whirled around, my shield leading, just in time to catch the wolf. The shield slammed into the side of its jaw, knocking it aside. Stunned, it could do little as I drove my sword through its hide, killing it.

After a brief look around we relaxed, the threat over. Hadvar retrieved his arrow, turning to me. "You alright?" he asked.

"Fine," I replied. The wolves hadn't touched me.

"Then let's keep moving," Hadvar replied, continuing on the path, me behind him. Eventually, a village could be seen in the distance. We quickened our pace, racing against time as the light started to dim, the sun beginning to sink from its zenith. Finally, we reached the small hamlet, crossing under the gate-less arch that marked the entrance to the town. "Things look quiet enough here," Hadvar remarked, looking around. "Come on, there's my uncle."

He gestured towards a bulky man in a red tunic on a porch, hammering away at a piece of metal on a large anvil. Surrounding him was everything a blacksmith needed, from a workbench, to a grindstone, tanning racks, and a huge, smoldering forge. Beside him, hanging from the roof, was an iron sign depicting an anvil.

"Uncle Alvor!" Hadvar called, gesturing. "Hello!" The blacksmith looked up with a mix of delight and surprise.

"Hadvar? What are you doing here?" he left his force and walked to the edge of the porch as we came to him, climbing up a few steps until we were in front of him. "Are you on leave from-" he caught his breath as he got a good look at his nephew. I cast a side-long glance towards Hadvar, trying to find what had made the blacksmith, Alvor, so surprised.

Hadvar's eyes were haggard, his skin was pale and covered in dirt, and his armor was rent and dented from the numerous blows he had taken in the keep. I felt bad for not having noticed these things sooner, concerned as I was for myself. I thought about what I must look like and shuddered, guessing I looked worse than the Imperial.

"Shor's bones," Alvor muttered. "What happened to you boy? Are you in some kind of-"

Hadvar cut him off with a shush, looking around nervously. "Uncle, I'm fine, but we should go inside to talk." His uncle looked more and more puzzled. He glanced at both of us, trying to figure out what the secrecy was about.

"What's going on?" he asked. "Who's this?" his eyes flicked towards me for a second. I prepared an answer but Hadvar already had one.

"He's a friend. Saved my life in fact. Come on, I'll explain everything, but we need to go inside."

Alvor nodded, sighing. "Ok, ok, come inside then. Sigrid will get you something to eat, and you can tell me all about it." The mention of food made my stomach growl and I realized how starved I was. Thinking about bread made my mouth water, and my mind became so fixed on the thought of food that I hardly noticed when Alvor and Hadvar walked off towards the door of the house. Shaking myself out of my reverie, I quickly followed them, catching the open door as it was closing and passing over the threshold.

The house was warm and cozy, with a roaring fireplace being the centerpiece of the floor. A cooking pot was in front of it, steam rising from whatever concoction was being created inside. A table emanating mouth-watering scents of food was to our left, and to our right were a pair of beds, a dresser, and a bookshelf.

"Sigrid!" Alvor called. "We have company!" After a small wait, a woman with amber hair and small brown eyes walked up the stairs leading to the basement, glancing at the assembled persons. "Hadvar!" she exclaimed when she saw him. "We've been so worried about you!" She walked over to the pot, checking on a meal that was boiling in it, her eyes looking me over for a second. "You two must be hungry. Sit down and I'll get you something to eat."

I nodded, taking a seat at the far end of the table. Hadvar sat on my left, Alvor across from him. Sigrd walked over with a bowl of soup and handed it to Hadvar before walking off to get two more. She placed our dishes in front of us and as the smell wafted up my hunger started to claw at my belly. I picked up a wooden spoon next to me and started eating. The meal tasted delicious, though I cared not to savor it, starved as I was. Before long the bowl was empty. I looked around and the others were still eating. I picked up a small piece of bread and munched on that, picking up a few berries when that was gone. Hadvar passed me a small flagon of water, which I gratefully accepted, equally thirsty as I was hungry.

When everyone had finished their meal or was close to finishing, Alvor leaned back in his seat. "Now then, boy, what's the big mystery? Why do you look like you lost an argument with a cave bear?" Sigrid was sitting off to the side. She had been reading but was now listening intently.

"I don't know where to start," Hadvar began. "You know I was assigned to general Tullius' guard," Alvor nodded at the rhetorical question. "We were stopped in Helgen when we were attacked. By a dragon."

"That's ridiculous!" Alvor scoffed. "You aren't drunk, are you boy?" The accusation angered me slightly.

"Husband," Sigrid interjected. "Let him tell his story."

"Not much more to tell," Hadvar muttered. "This dragon just flew over and wrecked the whole place. Mass confusion." He paused for a second, trying to think of anything else to say. "I don't know if anyone else made it out alive. I doubt I would have gotten this far if not for my friend here," his eyes gestured to me and I nodded slightly. "I was hoping you could help us out. Food, supplies, a place to stay?"

"Of course," Alvor replied, his tone of disbelief gone. He looked in my direction, smiling slightly. "Any friend of Hadvar's is a friend of mine. I'm glad to help in any way I can." His face grew darker and more worried, and his tone became more serious. "But I need your help. _We_ need your help." I nodded, beckoning for him to continue. "The Jarl needs to know a dragon's on the loose. Riverwood is defenseless. You need to get word to Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun. If you do that for me, I'll be in your debt."

I nodded again. "How do I get to Whiterun?" I asked, unfamiliar with most of Skyrim's landscape.

Alvor chuckled softly. "New to Skyrim? Just go through town and cross the bridge. There's a sign-post that should point you to the city. Just follow the road until you see the walls. You can figure it out from there, I'm sure."

"Thank you," I replied. Alvor nodded and got up, as did Hadvar.

"I've got to get back to the forge," Alvor said, excusing himself and walking outside. The mention of his profession brought my eyes to my armor. It was too large for me and seemed flimsy for its weight. I excused myself from the table and followed Alvor out of the house. He noticed me and turned around. "What is it?"

I tapped my armor. "Do you think you could make some new armor for me? This set is a little large for me." I looked around his workplace, noticing the impressive amount of metal, leather, and tools.

Alvor took a look at the Imperial armor, nodding. "Like I said, I'm glad to help any way I can. Tell me what kind of armor you want and you'll have it." His eyes flicked towards my iron sword. "Maybe you'd like a better blade to, maybe?"

I pulled the iron sword from its sheath, examining it. "I think I'd like that, if it isn't a problem."

"Not at all," Alvor replied. "First, let's start with the armor. Do you want it heavy, or light?"

I thought for a second. Heavy armor was obviously more debilitating speed-wise than light armor, but its point was to shrug off blows. Light armor was for moving fast, I learned this long ago. And I also learned a long time ago that speed was one of the deadliest weapons in a warrior's arsenal.

"Light," I replied. "As light as possible while still providing a decent amount of protection."

Alvor thought for a moment. "The best I can give you is leather. Despite what you may think it's probably stronger than what you've got on right now, and its light enough to move fast in."

"Sounds perfect," I said. "Do you need measurements or anything?"

Alvor looked me over for a second, glancing at my arms and sizing me up. "No, the armor's adjustable enough to fit most sizes, at least the way I make it. You'll be just fine with it." He glanced once again at the iron sword at my hip. "I can make you a steel sword as well. It'll serve you better than that flimsy iron you've got." He turned around, locating his tools and materials. "I'll work on it some tonight, and I'll finish it in the morning. Come back then and I'll have something for you."

"Thank you," I said, turning around and leaving the blacksmith to his work. I went back into his house, nodding in acknowledgment to Hadvar before approaching Sigrid. "Do you have a change of clothes I could borrow?" It felt strange asking that, but I had no will to sleep in my armor.

"Check the wardrobe over there," Sigrid motioned to a wooden structure on the far side of the room. I walked over and opened it up, taking a fairly bland brown belted tunic with dark green sleeves. I sneaked downstairs to change, passing a small girl who was coming up the stairs.

"Did you really see a dragon?" she asked when she saw me. She must have overheard most of the conversation while we were eating.

"I did," I responded, unsure how to reply to the girl.

"What did it look like?" the girl asked, her fascination with this dragon growing.

"Go ask your cousin," I said with a hint of mischief, ushering her up the stairs. I heard her run over to Hadvar and start pestering him with questions and chuckled to myself, continuing down the stairs.

I slipped off the Imperial boots and undid the buckles on the bracers, reaching up and taking off my helmet after realizing I had neglected to take it off beforehand and must have looked like a fool at dinner. I placed them off to the side and undid the straps and buckles on the studded armor, eventually wrestling it off. I pulled the tunic over my head and pulled the pants over my legs, tightening the belt to keep the clothes from falling off. I walked over to a wardrobe and opened it, finding some shoes, which I slipped over my feet, surprised that they fit me well.

Thus changed, I walked upstairs, taking in the scene. Sigrid and Hadvar were talking next to the fireplace in hushed voices. The little girl was wolfing down a meal at the dinner table. Alvor was probably still working at the forge.

At this point my fatigue made itself apparent and I swayed a bit. I walked over to Sigrid and Hadvar. "Where should I sleep?" I asked, looking towards the welcoming beds at the far end of the room.

"You can use that one," Sigrid replied, pointing at the small bed shoved into the corner. I walked over and sat down, slipping my feet out of my new shoes and lying back on the mattress.

A dragon. I saw a dragon. I was face-to-face with a dragon. And I was still alive. It amazed me how much could happen in such a short time. From prisoner to escapee to warrior, apparently, according to the Guardian Stones, and now with a task to fulfill. In the back of my mind was an evil thought that I had not seen the last of the dragon and that we would meet again. It spoke to me. The image was burned in my mind, the words as thunder. What did he say?

"Dovahkiin. Zu'u lost daal."

* * *

And that's part 4. Things will get a bit heated in the next part, assuming I make it that far (fingers crossed).


End file.
